


Paw A Way Through Life

by Geisterschiff



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Family Bonding, M/M, compliant up until season six, keith bonding with dogs, keith bonding with family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 21:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16480268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geisterschiff/pseuds/Geisterschiff
Summary: Two times Keith had a dog.Two times he tried to teach them fetch, but never figured it out.Third time is supposed to be a charm, right?Well, it's not working out so far...The story of the dog Keith got from his dad, the stray he met before Shiro disappeared and the wolf that came to him with his mom.





	Paw A Way Through Life

**Author's Note:**

> My little contribution to the [Keith Birthday Baby Bang!](https://keithbabybang.tumblr.com/)  
> It was meant as a whole fic first, but then I figured out it might work better if posted chaptered, so here I go :) Tags will be updated as the story progresses.  
> Thank you for giving it a read. If you feel like leaving comments, kudos or any other sort of feedback, it will be very appreciated. If you want to come talk to me, feel free to at my writing tumblr [@geisterwrites](https://geisterwrites.tumblr.com). I'm open for requests.

_Some parallels in life are so blatant they are not even funny anymore.  
They might have been considered funny, if they were at least happy. But having to look at something while being reminded of the previous occasions where things went wrong. While wondering if this one is going to go just as sour…_

  


* * *

  


With the back of his head pressed against a grayish trunk of some kind of tree and arms propped on his knees, Keith stares at the cosmic wolf sitting in front of him. Neither of them moves even for an inch, only the wind waves around Keith’s hair as well as the thick, but soft fur of the wolf.  
The night is bristling around them. Like charged with electricity. Like a cat, who has laid herself to rest, but it’s all arched and hissing now, because Keith has roused her with his walk. Keith and his wolf.

_‘You should give him a name. You can’t just call him space wolf.’_

The corners of Keith’s lips jump up. It’s a tense smile. Sour. Dripping with the irony of life that’s tangled in the wolf’s fur. 

“Kosmo, huh?” It’s a fitting name. A good one and Keith knows it. It would be perfect. If he hasn’t used it before already.

The wolf gets up and moves one step closer, then two. His cold nose brushes over Keith’s fingers. It’s a faint touch, like a butterfly rushing past his hand. He watches the wolf wait with his head turned down, eyes staring on the ground.  
_What immensely long lashes._

The tree gives a squeaking symphony when Keith shifts and lifts his hand. He doesn’t need to put it down to touch the wolf. A quick intake of breath after there is a soft forehead under his palm. It presses into his skin and Keith runs his thumb up the little slope between the eyes that flick up to look at him.  
The look is penetrating. Like the wolf knows about everything that’s going on there. Maybe it has to do with his teleporting abilities?  
_Does… Is he able to teleport thoughts? Wait, that’s dumb._  
This time the corners of Keith’s mouth dance up with sincere amusement his silly thoughts. Silly is better than the shadowy bundle, though, that is sitting and itching in his brain just above his ear. There is no successful way how to scratch it, and blowing it apart takes more than a gentle nightly wind.

The wolf’s head disappears and bumps against his palm. Keith’s eyes refocus to see into the present. If there isn’t accusation seeping out of that hooded look, Keith doesn’t know what else it is.

“I’m sorry.” He rubs the fur between his ears. “You know I’m happy we have rescued you in the Quantum Abyss.”  
A whine confirms that the wolf indeed knows.  
Keith’s thumb slides back into the slope. The slow up and up again is calming. Yet something has awoken in Keith’s chest and sticks to the bottom of his ribcage. It waves itself between his ribs like a ribbon as it climbs up, all the way to his throat, and forms a knot.

With a hand on either side of the wolf’s head, with thumbs pressing down along his brows, Keith buries his face into the wolf’s soft fur. It’s like a balm against his cheeks and Keith tries to push the thoughts away how it can also burn like a sanding paper.

“You know I’m happy to have you.” His mind flicks to Krolia for a tick and he tightens his arms around the wolf’s neck. “But what will you bring to me?”

The large body moves as the wolf sits down, settles in between Keith’s legs, who takes deep breaths of the wolf’s scent.  
To call it calming would be a stretch. To compare it with anything he had smelled on Earth would require a larger scent memory. He might feel mint. Lemon. Wet cotton string of the past curling around his throat.  
A paw hits his chest, and Keith shivers. Cold hands reach out for him, tug at the string and drag it down along his spine. He runs his hand over the ground until his fingers hit a branch. 

“Will you fetch for me… please?” He waves the branch in front of the wolf’s head. Yellow eyes follow it around. But when Keith bites his lip and hurls it away, the only thing that moves are the wolf’s ears.  
They turn backwards, and listen to the loud swish of the wood moving through the air. They listen to the crash when it hits the ground. They twitch around in several directions, probably trying to pick up any sound again. But there is only silence now, and the ears relax in their original stance.

Keith punches the ground. Slams his head back against the trunk. And when he closes his eyes, he is seven again.

  


* * *

  


Trips to the town weren’t unusual, but sparse. Between his dad’s work and the danger of what his dad called ‘being found out’, which Keith never understood, but accepted, there simply wasn’t enough time. And if Keith were to tell the truth, on a calm Sunday afternoon that he wasn’t spending by himself, he much more preferred to sit with his dad on the porch of their hut and listen to his stories or learning things from his dad, than wandering around the town.  
The only good thing about the town was the ice cream shop at the corner of the park. And dogs.

Maybe that’s why he liked the park too.  
Compared to the desert, where he could run around like he wanted, the park was small and restricted. _Don’t do this or that._ No one forbade anything in the desert.  
But the desert also didn’t have people coming in to play with their dogs. 

So when Keith sat with his dad in the cool shade of a tree, one small hand clutching his new sketchbook and crayons, the other holding an ice cream cone, he couldn’t help to get lost in the sight.  
There were always a couple of dogs running around and Keith squirmed a bit, cheeks heating up, when he caught himself counting off who was there today by their names. He was never successful in remembering people’s names, but dogs were a whole other level.

“Keith, your ice cream.”  Keith’s eyes flicked up from Maya, a chestnut brown dog, first to his father and then to the cone. The ice cream was melting, running all over his hand, and dripping onto the grass. Keith’s lips pulled into a thin line over the puddle on the ground. He struggled to lick his hand clean.  
“Wait-“ A large, white blob fell on his t-shirt. He looked at his dad, but there was only a head shake and a short, bubbling laugh.  
“Come here.” 

Keith’s father barely got angry. If he did, it was only because of certain topics and Keith had since long learned not to argue about these. A messed up shirt was not that important to get angry over. If anything, Keith himself was more sad about it – the ice cream splotch sat exactly over Saturn. He removed it with the offered wet wipe and cleaned his hand while his dad took the ice cream cone. A soft thumping distracted him again, and he watched Boris, a small black dog, as he ran past them to fetch a ball.

“Would you like to have a dog?”  
Keith jolted. His heart beat faster and sparks danced over his skin. A feeling he got when his dad taught him something new. A bright, warming anticipation of something good. His head whipped around, eyes roaming over his dad’s face – the soft of his smile spilled into his eyes. Keith squeezed the dirty wipe, and his mouth sprung open.  
“No.”  
Even the soft and smile did not erase the deep, tired wrinkles under his dad’s eyes.  
“It’s better to just come here and watch them like this.” Keith looked down, about to push the used wipe into his pocket, when large fingers took it away from him.

“Keith, are you sure?” The surprise was etched in every inch of his dad’s expression.  
An uncomfortable feeling crawled up Keith’s spine when he looked at it. Of course he wanted. The image of him not spending hours and hours alone in their hut, but having a friend he could run around and play with, was curled deep in his chest. But this wasn’t about what he wanted. This was about what his dad could afford.  
“Yeah.” He smiled and took his ice cream back. It was sour on his tongue and the dirty spot on his shirt felt freezing on his chest. At least the large hand stroking down his back felt comforting.

* * *

Keith was splayed on the living room floor, crayons in a neat pile next to his right hand. He was biting down on his bottom lip as he worked on the picture of his fifth spaceship. Every day when his dad came home he was proud to show him a new one. Eager to explain all the features of each ship and why every of them was drawn in a different color.  
“Will you fill this sketchbook with spaceships only?” His dad had laughed yesterday, hand tight around Keith’s waist, who sat on his thigh and nodded eagerly. His dad gave him a pointed look at that and flipped the sketchbook close. The dinner was weirdly silent that night.

But Keith was determined. While he usually loved to draw anything and everything, this time he concentrated only on the spaceships. The main point was, there were no dogs running around in space, right? And if there were no dogs in his pictures, there was no reason for his dad to bring them up, right?

Keith’s head shot up when the front door opened, the black crayon rolling over the paper. His eyes widened when he looked at the wall clock – this was definitely way too early for his dad to be home. He scrambled to get his knife and to hide.  
“Keith!” His dad’s voice stopped him dead in his track. He was crouched at the couch, ready to climb underneath and watched as his dad squeezed himself through the tight door of the living room with a large box in his arms.  
“Don’t worry, it’s just me. Come here.” He encouraged Keith as he sat the box down on the ground, kneeling right next to it. 

Keith furrowed his brows, and one slow step after another he came closer. The box was intriguing, but also a bit intimidating.  
“What’s in there?”  
“Come and see.” The smile on his dad’s lips confused Keith. It was so bright, so happy, like Keith had probably never seen him smile before. He shuffled closer when his dad lifted the lid. Leaned in with his heart thrumming in his throat. Something whined inside and a small, fluffy head jumped above the edge of the box, but disappeared again. Keith forgot how to breathe. He rushed over, tripping over his own feet, fingers clutching the hard cardboard.

There was a puppy inside, trying to jump out of the box again. All black and white fluffy fur, ears seemingly larger than his whole body. His dad lifted it up and it struggled. Yowled. It pawed towards Keith and a pink tongue rolled out of its mouth.  
The box crumpled in Keith’s fists. There were thousand words trapped in his mouth, but none could find the way out.

“Happy Birthday, Keith,” That was what snapped him out of it.  
“It’s not my birthday. That is in…” One after another he lifted up four fingers. “…in four months!” His face scrunched all over again. Brows sitting low and nose pulled up.  
“And does it matter?” His dad’s voice hit where it hurt the most. It had the strange curly edge that seemed soft, but burned ice cold. Keith had heard it only twice so far, but there was no way he could ever forget how it chilled his bones. It was the voice his dad used to tell him to cherish the precious moments together before they were gone.

The puppy whined again, his butt wiggling where it sat in his dad’s palm. It pawed towards Keith, who reached out, still unsure and hesitant. The moment his fingers raked through the soft fur on his belly, tears rolled down his cheeks.  
Keith grabbed and pulled. The puppy barked when Keith hugged it to his chest - the embrace awkward, but tight. He laughed when a hot tongue licked his tears away.  
“Thank you…. Thank you.” He gave more a sob than actual words, pressing his face into soft fur. Large arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a warm chest, fingers stroking through his hair.  
“You are a good kid, Keith. Such a good kid.” 


End file.
